Author's First Note: Hello everybody! I know due to the flu epidemy in my city which means that the updates will be more regular even if I have written less than I have thought in the past few days for which I genuinely apologize since I'm opting to collect some energy and motivation through the wee breaks I vow myself. I'm opting to please all of my dear readers, regardless the slight postpone of the updates.
I'm also planning to create an intro or a wee trailer for Hypodermic Transgression as I did with Wings of Light. If you haven't checked it out Wings of Light's intro, it is solely accessible to all viewers on my Twitter and IG for my books nxnsxgnorsdxmonstories!
Notwithstanding the notes, I'm wishing you a beloved reading journey as well! :))
Here we are again
Just face to facing
- Two Days Later or So -
Just two days after not only losing your job due to your bluntly ruthless, villainously stringent boss who barely had an ounce of daredevil tolerance for your second late arrival at work, but also paying a visit to the doctor office in the company of the British aristocrat, the fleetly versatile pace of the days' progression bled into the Christmas Eve's merry twilight. The starless horizon's silver loneliness joined in the flock of translucently crystalline, monumental hoary clouds mounting up the sky. The severely ferocious waltz of the flock of alabaster, tiny snowflakes pelting down sluggishly everything below the airy sanctum formed its rich pile of new snowy homes. The sunlessness climate couldn't even dare to impale swelteringly to magnify its solar filter slowly but surely melting the rich waterfall of snow efficiently infectious populating the small city of Massachusetts.
In the past few days, you and Timothy decided to stay at home in general, besides doing a wee shopping for the impending Christian holidays emphatically without even daring to set foot inside the outdoors' impressively monumental, ethereally timeless space. The sole exception that would be pearly compensated was playing on the snow and treasuring dearly every precious moment you have separated from the chores, the ordinarily outstanding conversations you traded and the regular knacks as well. Every kind of an ingredient for preparing the ideal Christmas dinner table's dilemma and emulating ultimately to the Christmas ambience's extraordinarily delightful additions impaled your train of thoughts to construct your own individual celebration without further gathers of your inner circle members at all. Just two of you.
Notwithstanding the circumstances, everybody had their own family or rather just small circle of close friends with whom they could spend their excitingly one of a kind celebration of the Christian holiday. Even if certain nobodies' families were no longer ghosting the crudely cold world's roundish sphere and fueling their beloved relatives' hearts with unconditional warmness and celestially vast love, yet their last hope to have a beatific Christmas with somebody else that took a special place in their hearts couldn't hurt anyway.
In the wee hours of the morning, you got up early approximately in seven o'clock and being in no hurry at all, besides brushing you teeth and discarding your pyjamas as you dolled up in a mere peach sweater with embroidered swarm of pitch-black polka dots paired with conveniently casual pair of denim jeans hugging your petite-frame. During your very presence's population in the kitchen to brew its caffeine liquid on the hob, at the moment the former aspiring Monsignor was upstairs taking a lukewarm shower to fiendishly refresh his own train of thoughts and lubricate his delicately palish epidermis with stark cleanness due to his stringently decent hygiene.
In the meanwhile, the shower head's beehive of wee gaps severely steamed its translucently crystalline jet water peppering the former ambitious Monsignor's short mop of sopping chestnut strands fabulously plastering his head and matching with his charmingly youthful facial attributes. The freshness of the jet water splashing vigorously agitated against his epidermis and the fantastically crystal beads maneuvering to ripple his overall arms and legs. The dully serene symphony of the restless cataract of jet water floated in the bathroom. The curtain shower promisingly obscured the British compatriot's nude frail skeleton for eventual embarrassing moments in the future if you have accidentally bumped into the bathroom upstairs.
Moreover, the once hideously luxurious layer of fiendish filth clinging to Timothy's bare, milky flesh of his frail skeleton unceasingly unremitting dissipated in the starkly relentless oblivion accompanying the perfectly normal pungent reek of human sweat lubricating his shoulders and genitalias. Honey-mouthedly indistinctive, hedonistic hums foamed his straight line adorning prominently his porcelain, still youthful complexion. Maneuvering his virginally long, bony fingers cradled gently the lathered sponge to trounce each ounce of filth his overall figure at last, besides kneading recklessly ruthless its shampoo to overspread his short mop of chestnut strands.
The logically real motive behind the lukewarmness unremittingly intensifying to filter the water's temperature was not only due to the yet recovering demon claws' vindictively bloodthirsty, unimaginably hair-rising wound to not have any interactions with the infernally sweltering liquid, but also to refresh his vortex of thoughts and to get rid off of the filth and unspeakable sweat that was clinging to his large-frame. Even if Timothy was somehow a keen fan of keeping his physique neat and keeping himself in shape by following childlikely mousy his balanced healthy diet and shaving his facial hair per a couple of days when the sea of masculinely thickly, darkly kinky wire of beard wielding its rich crop until the razor-edged shaver didn't bedaub discretely its foamed facial skin, anyway he mustered up to not agitate the demon claws' wound and to save some hot water.
As soon as his drenched tissues worked on the faucets' twist to peter out its running jet water, thereafter Timothy dashed out of the shower and wrapped a freshly clean navy blue towel securing his pelvis as its vehemently happy hem flared across his ankles, bestowing its fabric obscuring to the starkly blood-curdling, unspeakable absolute reality's real prospect of his most discreet body areas. Solely his muscly, masculinely potent arms and toned, hairy torso amenably dawdled its nudity to the natural daylight silver light streaming through the windows of his sufficiently expansive bedroom.
When the former devotional member of the church finished with showering and ventured up inside his bedroom to get dressed up and dry his hair naturally with the towel, consequently he careened out of the site within a couple of minutes and docilely manipulated its series of monotonously diligent footsteps ghostwriting the floor and the lacquered stairway on his mission to the kitchen.
"Good morning, Tim!" All of a sudden, you shifted your utter attention to the older gentleman setting foot inside the kitchen once your pristinely dainty fingers lingered on the hob's knobs eventually and settling the kettle on top of the counter comfy to pour its brown caffeine liquid deposited in the both individually clean, still unused mugs at last. The oscilattion your E/C roundish gemstones took turns to prong his very presence and the kettle, following in the corner of your eye the purely dexterous channelize of your dainty fingers crooked around the kettle's handle.
"Morning, rare bird!" You couldn't help, nonetheless, sinfully helpless buffing your nude, angelically cherub lips into a vibrantly sympathetic smiles tugging at the corner of your lips. The silver-tonguedly heavenly, calm tones of the older gentleman's informal address bonding the friendly special nickname molted your flimsy heart and rabidly rapid accelerating its unthinkable paces thumping into your ribcage. The light shades of cherry severely cheerful dredged hopelessly ruthless your façade at last. Nothing could dethrone the ultimately golden, unimaginably intoxicating felicity simmering your very cells and muscles to twitch bashfully at each cordially heartwarming compliment you obtained eventually. "I just took a fresh, lukewarm shower and I wanted to save some hot water, besides to be careful with my wound on my abdomen!"
"I see. How are you feeling actually?"
"I'm feeling slightly better, but there's nothing new under the sun!" The haphazardness of your dexterous channelize to grapple the pair of cups of freshly brewed coffee shortly after dumping the kettle with luxurious pool of transparent liquid pronging its rim, consequently you served the entities on top of the kitchen table and seated against Timothy, stabilizing blood-curdlingly headstrong the adequate maintenance of your eye contact. "The wound is getting better even if it is mildly irritable to feel its restless pain pulsating beneath my abdomen's skin."
"At least, let's not forget that there's apparently somewhat a progress with the wound's recovery." Crooking your pristinely spidery fingers circa the entity's handle, thereafter you lifted it up to take a docilely hedonistic sip and then leaving it aloof on top of the furniture as you managed to cross your legs lazily. "It's just the same with the achievements you are aiming to headstrongly. Even if the tiniest ounce of progress means much more than absolute nothing, Tim!"
"I have to fairly agree with you, however, I can't complain about it, because it would be deadly pathetic of my side to whine for something that takes days even weeks to get rid off it."
"Fair enough!" Shortly after the starkly nimble manipulation of your feminine Adam's apple flex to slug a handful of wee sips from the brown liquid for second time even when your spidery fingers dawdled to drift somewhere else to barely inch, subsequently you muffled with the palm of your petite, smooth hand its blatantly gruff cough to clear your throat. The medley of the eloquently mirthful birdsongs, the aggressive howl of the ferociously glacial wind and the honey-mouthedly inviting ballad of the snowfall chirped the background accompanying the brittle drum of your fingertips against the frail material of the mug. "It's a wee weird how the Christmas tree hasn't been even settled in the living room."
"It's better late than never to bring it in the living room and get ready for its prominent decoration, you know!" A heavy sigh surged through the former aspiring Monsignor's brittle lungs as his virginally slim, soft fingers stilled to toy with the entity's handle until they sluggishly perpetual ghostwrote the dining table's surface and snatched timidly your elvish hand into his grapple instaneously categorical. The abruptness of the knitted fingers apt to tandem ferrying its invincibly restive blizzard of sweltering heat hypodermically vandalizing your spine and awfully noxious pervading your overall frail skeleton flabbergastingly spellbinded its bewitching hex on you, breaking your facial expression even when you diabolically bold drifted your stare to spear your knitted fingers in its welcomingly doting grapple. "We have the whole time of the world to do it together, Y/N! We are in no hurry at the moment. Nothing can stop us!"
- A Couple of Hours Later or So -
"And here we go with the garlands!" At the moment, the former pious man of the cloth dawdled his very presence ghosting warily the wooden ladder whilst the pair of your elvish, smooth hand's spidery fingers crooked around the ladder and clawing its entity to stabilize the extra weight interpolating between enfolding the glittering aureate garlands circa the giant Christmas tree, fashionably matching with the ocean of variety of balls of medley of red, aureate and silver ornamenting its branches.
The ominously noxious optimism and profoundly vibrance suffused the living room in the wee hours of the afternoon on your mission to ornament eventually the giant Christmas tree. The wintery daylight's hoary light pierced the gigantic French window in the room and bestowing you and the former aspiring Monsignor with a generous layer of natural palish light pale enough to filter fashionably even the darkest outskirts that was formatting its sinisterly unavoidable shadows and demons' enigmatic lair. The enigmatic lair of the skeletons in the closet's mission to be leaked eventually. The outskirts of the eeriness in the middle of the most tranquil, the resiliently suffocated by the crickets' eloquently elating chirps and the farther noises of the fiercely mischievous dance of the zephyr outdoors' zone. Or rather the sacredly safe site of the medley of divine enigma, the elating nirvana of the nonchalance and the gruesomely spine-chilling haunting waltz of the shadows and the demons.
The epidemic plague of divinely broad, vibrantly soothing grins curving upon your nude pink, angelically cherub lips and the severely endemic crinkles of your lower eyelids asphyxiated your charming facial attributes. The sheer radiance graining each ounce of your unblemished facial skins.
A half an hour ago you ventured up in the living room to embellish together the gigantic pine tree with its beamingly authentic ornaments coiling the very branches of the entity. The decoration's style wasn't formulating its gruesomely pure perfectionism, the brilliantly aesthetic ambience epidemically imbued each perspective transfixed on surveying in a studious scrutiny the pine tree nonetheless.
"It looks very magnificent! Doesn't it?" The suddenness of the sweet, beamingly emboldening meow sloppily slipped from your oral slit didn't vanish into the thin air, offering the British compatriot a benevolently beaming, broadly inviting grin tugging at the corner of your lip morbidly, whilst pronging his pools of poetically deep coffee brown chasing fiery eager yours.
"Of course, my rare bird! With your help, everything we do look more than magnificent than I could even picture it!" A girlishly coy, ominously blunt snicker emerged from your throat as its vibration seethed your feminine Adam's apple at the kindheartedly emboldening words of the former holy priest, whereas your shoulders conjugated a sheepish shrug at his silver-tongued tone puncturing his compliment and the friendly nickname, his pools of abysmally piercing coffee brown luminously ablaze with luxurious cataract of glowing glitter of starkly heinous ecstasy and optimism even when his pair of copper-framed eyeglasses perched motionlessly on top of the bridge of his nose.
"I'm undeniably proud of your work for a half an hour which can be done in a New York."
"Take it easy!" Shooting a nimble wink at you, throughout a contagiously rich powder of blush comfortably inscribed your well-sculptured, chubby cheeks whilst guarding the wooden ladder and the box of Christmas tree's cluster of trinklets that bone-chillingly rapid emptied within every retrieve of an item that was a fantastically great addition to the Christmas spirits' heavy escalation. "Could you give me the Christmas star, darling?" Suddenly you hunkered down to retrieve the frail glassy scarlet Christmas star from the box that was the sole unused yet part of the Christian holiday's outstandingly delightful bauble as well.
"Anything for you, darling!" When you maneuvered to straighten your posture and handing the decorative star to the older man, throughout his mouth purred a despondently spontaneous groan under his breath while attempting to settle comfy the compact entity on top of the tree, whereas you darted your E/C rotund minerals mirthfully examining in a scrutiny the process of the tinsel at last.
"This shining star is a great addition to the Christmas spirits and to this monumental tree!" Working his virginally delicate fingers cradling the material on his performance to descend the ladder, afterwards the adequate maintenance of meager proximity graced you to draw one another into a tight, amiable embrace and following meekly its violent sync of your heart pulses trashing into your chests as you buried your face in the crook of his delicate, alabaster expanse. "I'm genuinely grateful for your tremendous help, my rara avis!"
"No need to, Tim!" A couple of vowels and syllables persistently clashing for domination for a split second subsequently conjugated your candidly vibrant purr foaming your mouth as you fastened the embrace with your femininely silken arms tightening the brace at last, whereas you sensed twain of mammoth, masculinely soft hands cradling your middle gingerly and the digits of his fingers humbly brushing the rigid fabric of your sweater.
Author's Final Note: I'd like to apologize for the slightly sloppy chapter, nevertheless, I opted to update sooner than later which is better and it's genuinely stressful if it's not being updated in awhile and postponing with the updates as well.
For unknown reason, I genuinely love the female reader and Timothy as a pairing and their doubtlessly potent chemistry. What about you too?
The impending new chapters will be full of surprises anyway! If you genuinely liked and enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to leave a feedback! Don't be shy! :))
